A review by nicktomjoe
Sword at Sunset by Rosemary Sutcliff
5.0
All the hallmarks of a great novel by Sutcliff are here: fast-paced and unflinching battle scenes; a keen eye on the weather and landscape; desperate lives finding hope where they can… While close to Malory’s Le Morte Darthur, Sutcliff creates a humanist narrative where transcendent magic is largely explained by cultic practice, and the practicalities of holding a failing culture together weave in and out of the principal characters’ motivations.
This is a far cry from the late medieval retellings: c5th Britain, and Rome has retreated, leaving fragments of structure and cultures, disused forts and half ruined palaces. Artos, Sutcliff’s Arthur, is acclaimed Caesar with “a tattered cloak.. almost, but not quite, of the imperial purple.” It is up to a complex alliance of Romano-British leaders to try and hold out against Saxon encroachment and internal treachery in the hope that every small victory allows “something to survive.” We know how this will end: Arthur is betrayed by his son and dies in the arms of Bedevere, here known as Bedwyr, Sutcliff’s version of the “ill-formed knight.”
What she gives us is essentially a story of hope, trust, and the contrary expressions of despair and betrayal, played out at a political and a personal level. The principal character, Artos, makes a mistake early in his life which casts a deep shadow over his relationship with Guenhumara his wife, his friends - and which will cost him his life. The internal struggle of Artos is laid bare for us to see, even where the man himself is incoherent or incapable. These agonising ambiguities form the psychological backbone to the rise and fall of the protagonist amid the tatters of Roman Britain.
Sutcliff’s nods towards her own books (notably the rest of what is now known as the Eagle of the Ninth series but also Sun Horse Moon Horse) are engaging, even puzzling, and show her trying to create a coherent narrative stretching back into a confused period in history. Bleaker than The Lantern Bearers (yet clearly related to it) and more brutal especially in its depiction of violence towards women and the bloodiness of battle, Sword at Sunset is nonetheless a story of hope for dark times, one of the most enduring myths of Britain re-presented in a believable and engrossing fashion by a major storyteller.
This is a far cry from the late medieval retellings: c5th Britain, and Rome has retreated, leaving fragments of structure and cultures, disused forts and half ruined palaces. Artos, Sutcliff’s Arthur, is acclaimed Caesar with “a tattered cloak.. almost, but not quite, of the imperial purple.” It is up to a complex alliance of Romano-British leaders to try and hold out against Saxon encroachment and internal treachery in the hope that every small victory allows “something to survive.” We know how this will end: Arthur is betrayed by his son and dies in the arms of Bedevere, here known as Bedwyr, Sutcliff’s version of the “ill-formed knight.”
What she gives us is essentially a story of hope, trust, and the contrary expressions of despair and betrayal, played out at a political and a personal level. The principal character, Artos, makes a mistake early in his life which casts a deep shadow over his relationship with Guenhumara his wife, his friends - and which will cost him his life. The internal struggle of Artos is laid bare for us to see, even where the man himself is incoherent or incapable. These agonising ambiguities form the psychological backbone to the rise and fall of the protagonist amid the tatters of Roman Britain.
Sutcliff’s nods towards her own books (notably the rest of what is now known as the Eagle of the Ninth series but also Sun Horse Moon Horse) are engaging, even puzzling, and show her trying to create a coherent narrative stretching back into a confused period in history. Bleaker than The Lantern Bearers (yet clearly related to it) and more brutal especially in its depiction of violence towards women and the bloodiness of battle, Sword at Sunset is nonetheless a story of hope for dark times, one of the most enduring myths of Britain re-presented in a believable and engrossing fashion by a major storyteller.